Perfect
by Angryventilationducts
Summary: Based on Au by Justsaynotopants on ao3, "Stab Bruno Mars in the Goddamn Esophagus" (Human AU) I highly recommend reading that first, then reading this. After months of longing, Gamzee gets a pleasant (naughty) surprise.
1. Chapter 1

Sweet.

Gam/Tav

Set in the **Stab Bruno Mars Universe, **by Justsaynotopants, because I just reread it the other day and fell in love with it again.

Gamzee gets a naughty/pleasant surprise after weeks of longing.

NSFW. Eventually. Gird your virgin eyes/loins.

**Author's note:**

Be it beyond me why, I love getting Gamzee laid. What has my life become?! *Stares at life choices dubiously* Goddammit I can't write PWP. God forbid I ever enter the porno industry, there'd be deep introspection and feelings everywhere, then shameless fucking, and possibly cookies after. Because I live between those extremes. Why this. *sob*

Holy shit. Long story is long as fuck.

* * *

It's another motherfucker of a boring day in the life of Gamzee Makara. You're standing outside of the tattoo/piercing parlor you work at, pinching a cigarette between thumb and forefinger mercilessly. Smoke curls around slim fingers in enticement, but fuck if you can't be bothered to inhale. The world's got an itching to be getting it's spiteful on, you decide. Glaring balefully at the mist that's persisted around your town like some motherfucking dull as hell iteration of a shitty Stephen King movie, you spit on the ground and grunt. Been like this for two. motherfucking. weeks. Can't even be bothered to finish off your cancer-stick, tossing it into the ash-can on your way back inside. Motherfuck. Everything.

Can't be getting to admittance as to what's got your goat for motherfucking real, though. Aradia watches you with pursed lips as you glide past quiet as a sneak thief. Them glossy pages toss themselves over in mock judgment, the rustling of the paper a rankle to your ears. Shit, you're paranoid today. Ain't no good when you run out a meds premature. Karkat had your motherfucking ass about that shit last night. Not literal-like, mind. That makes you giggle a little. Motherfuck, your best friend is loud as all hell in real life, could only imagine what happens in the sack. Betting that blind bulldozer of a crazy girl needed motherfucking earplugs when they got all up and personal.

Aradia distracts you once you round the corner and head back to your station, mysterious smile in place as she says, "You have a four o clock appointment, Gamzee. Make sure you have everything ready, would you?" Choosing to nod wordlessly rather than speak the venom thought what comes to near bear, you plod back, carefully checking over your instruments in the sanitizer, pulling out gauze, getting your gloves ready. Your fine sister, who don't have no wanting of self-preservation today so it would motherfucking seem, appears at your door.

"Oh, and Gamzee?" There's something shiny and dangerous about that smile. It makes you squirm. "Do me a favor and fix the lock for this room real quick? You've got an hour or so, it should be more than enough time." You may or may not have broken the door down when you accidentally locked yourself in there in the dark, once. You also may or may not have been a little stoned. You blame 'Ra's older sister Damara for that. Fucking bitch.

She tosses you the package, a new doorknob and deadbolt set, and a screwdriver. You just shrug, trying to contain all the bullshit words that are all up and flooding your veins. She flashes another sharp smirk before striding back to her post out on the counter. You shrug again. Ain't got the patience to be wondering on her mystery-machine today.

The screws of the broken knob and deadbolt come out easy enough, sliding out with little fuss. Took about five minutes. It'd be bitchtits if the same were said for that motherfucker of a door opener in your hands now. You sweat, you curse, and bang, with very little effectivity. This motherfucker ain't made for making repairs. Cooking the most wicked of confections, hells yes. Fixing what all is broke, no, not so much. Aradia does a piss poor job of covering up her snickers, and it takes everything you have not to howl up some dissonance at her.

A final grunt and shove gets you your objective, the deadbolt in a place it's needful to being. You sigh and fall back on your butt, surveying the damage on your knuckles. The blood is so red...no. No. That weird ass shit isn't happening today. You shake yourself and force your mind to focus. It's only been a day, your meds shouldn't be all the way out of your system yet. You squeeze your eyes shut. Think of Karbro, what he'd say. Loud admonishment rings between your ears, you grin lopsided. Brother yells coz he loves, is all. Best motherfucker in the world.

Focus. Open your eyes. Taking precaution, you hold the screws in place as you drive them home, glad this happy horseshit is finally over with. As you head over to the first aid kit behind the counter, you wordlessly place the screwdriver next to Aradia. She pats your arm in a silent thank you. Motherfucker finally got the catch up on your motherfucking mood.

The antiseptic stings like the worst of papercuts when you put it on your scraped to hell knuckle-nubs, but you're glad for the way it pulls you out of your head. Don't need no reminding of the dark things what wait in there. Eyes travel to the clock, drawn like brown ants on an inescapable scent trail. Motherfucking merciful, only ten minutes to your last appointment, an hour till you can go to the doctor and get those godawful/wonderful chalky saviors to shut up the Messiahs. Karkat made you call to get your refill this morning before you left for work, even if he almost forgot to. Your best friend was all sortsa flustered this today, and you got no accounting what all for.

Everybody's acting funny today. You tried to ask, but as is that shouty brother's habit, he said, "Fuck off, taintwipe, I'm fine. Get your crazy ass to work and don't stab any hobos." He shooed you out without leaving any room for questions that done bubbled at the back of your brain sponge. Best friend is entitled to his motherfucking secrets, you guess. You finish up wrapping your knucks in gauze and tape with a wicked snicker-grin. Looks to be like you're a cage-fighter, though that shit would scare the piss out of you on the real. This here motherfucker is a lover, not a fighter. That grin drops faster than an airplane with an opening window.

Were you liking to be honest with yourself, you'd have to admit the real source of your rowdy thoughts is all how you've got your missing on Tavbro. Them pretty bright hazel eyes, those sexy-as hell lips that you couldn't quite motherfucking get to convincing yourself to kiss during the Fruity Rumpus Asshole Sleepover. Everything about your bro is missed all the fuck up front-like in your mind. Probably the worst of wanting and missing was how he played baby koala to your tree, touching on you every near moment he had. Nothing sexual, though you'd like to die in joyous riot if he did, but...it pushed away the empty aches all up in you. Made the dark void of your insides light up in hope-thought.

You gotta stop thinking about this shit. He ain't gonna be home until two more days from now. Leastways that's what he all said when you sent him all your messages last. Makes your blood pumper hurt and dance at the thinking of it. Rubbing a quick circle over your temples, you wonder if he knows about the loving you have all down for him. With your worst of motherfucking luck, probably not. Be miracles if it did happen, though. Shit. He's the motherfucking miracle if there ever was one. You sigh and stomp back to your station to wait.

That motherfucker of a timepiece is taunting you. Time-flow seems near to flying backwards, not forward. Makes you think of that prick Dave for some reason. You twirl on your piercing stool out of boredom, throwing your hands up in the air and almost landing tits over teacup in your tools. Sharp edges nearly get friendly with your ocular as you suck in a breath and catch yourself at the last second. Whoa, close.

As you push away from your tools, pulling out new coz you don't need to be infecting motherfuckers with your breath germs, you hear the doorbell ring. You start to saunter over to the counter until Aradia sings out to you, all sugar-sweet, "Just finish getting ready, Zee! I'll check in your next victim, er, client!" Motherfuck, then. You give a grunt of approval and pull out a couple of last-minute things. You might need extra gauze, you might not. A tiny giveaway bottle of Bactine never hurts neither.

You're busy pulling out a second pair of black gloves when you hear footsteps and the quiet(er) thunk of the door closing behind you. Generally, you never closed the door in session, coz some motherfuckers got nervous as all hell to be in the same room with a clown-faced brother. Even if said motherfucker was harmless as a squeakbeast. You gesture vaguely at the piercing chair, "Be with you right quick, motherfucker. Get your comfortable recline on, yeah?"

Whoever it is, they don't sit. But they do speak. "I think, it would probably be best, to be standing for a reunion of the bestest of bros." Motherfuck. That voice! You freeze up quick as an armadillo in headlights. You're half-afraid to turn around on account it might be your wicked thinkpan playing tricks on you. Waiting a beat too fucking long, the speaker chides your undeciding ass. "Gamzee! Your overjoyed chicken-nugget waifu awaits his tearful welcome back hugs!" That nails it all the way down, then. Tavros.

Adrenaline shoots through you as the most wicked of elixirs as you spin on your heel and near trip over yourself. That's not slowing down your clown ass, no way, no how! You charge your best of brothers full force, colliding into him with a series of happy "motherfucks!" and "Tavbro!"s. It feels so good to have his arms around you again, nuzzle the scruffy side of his 'hawk like it's your favorite blanket. Did he get taller? He feels taller.

Stronger, too, as he lifts you from your feet and swings in a wide arc, grinning into your hair while muttering how he's "So happy to see you!" He babbles away a million ecstatic platitudes but you are just motherfucking lost in the ocean of Tavros. His smell, the heat of his skin, his breath as it ruffles your hair as he talks in his stilted, quiet voice.

Talking ain't a thing right now, so you hmm and nod your way through the conversation. Pulling back just enough to see his face, you rest your forehead on his as he tells you funny stories from his stay at the res. When he tells you about the time a bull chased him for three pastures you make an undignified snort, and he giggles. Motherfuck you need to tape that shit. Greedy eyes trace over every inch of much missed skin, re-memorizes the location of each freckle and wrinkle. Your fingers itch for a pencil and a piece of paper.

His voice eventually fades, and he seems content to just stare back and grin like he won the big prize at a carnival. Your faces are just. Inches apart. His green-gold eyes look at yours half-mast through impossibly long eyelashes. And fuck, those plush motherfucking pucker-lips never looked so goddamn tempting in your life. You can't stop staring, his shit is a legit eyeball magnet. Motherfuckers could come staring from all the fuck over. They pull left-ways in a smirk before you feel Tav changing the angle of his head, moving away. He finally puts you down. You'd mourn the loss, but he don't give you time to tie on a pout. Quick as a bolt of lightning, his lips find yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. It tastes like sugar and cinnamon. Your nerve centers shut the fuck down.

Warm, soft lips are the center of your motherfucking universe right now. You cling to that motherfucker limpet-style, pushing him back with animal instinct against the nearest wall. Door. What the fuck ever. A rumbling moan erupts from your throat at the impact, and he gasps, giving you perfect opportunity to invade and plunder the insides of that miraculous mouth.

Tavros hums in appreciation and fights back with his tongue, wrestling with yours in delicious combat for superiority. You have no motherfucking clue what the prize is. Trying to take your time, you map out his mouth with curiosity, because you're still not sure you'll get to do it again.

Sharp cuspid, a funny little bump at the top of his mouth with ridges like salamander skin. Crooked incisor, so fucking cute you'd laugh if you weren't busy. You keep exploring, desperate, nervous, and ready to explode from ecstasy. Makes things a little sloppy, but whatever. You're kissing Tavros Nitram, and life is motherfucking beautiful right now.

His knee finds it's way between your legs, grinding upward gentle enough to make you cry with desire. Tav can't be doing that shit on purpose. He couldn't...want...you. You're nothing. A fuck-up in assisted living, a motherfucking mess. Built of sticks and chalky pills, charcoal and clown makeup. Brittle and breakable.

You don't deserve anyone, anything. Your heart races and clenches, anxious/full; of fears, of doubts. A nip on your lower lip brings you back, palms flat against your chest push you away. Oh, motherfuck. You screwed up, he's never gonna wanna see you again, it was an accident you'll never get a chance to tell him-

"Gamzee." You peek under your eyelashes into a smile brighter than a cellphone screen in the middle of the night. His voice is still a bit breathy, as if you up and sucked it out of his lungs, "I uh, wasn't expecting that..." Oh shit. Tav tilts his head to the side with a raised brow in question ,"But, I'm pretty glad that it happened?" Your words are hiding out by the moon right now, those motherfuckers. A shadow of doubt flits across his features. Nope. Not motherfucking having that noise. Gotta show Tav what all is down in your heart but soon.

You melt against him, covering his face in happy smooches as he giggles and squeezes your middle. "I'll take that to mean, you're happy too?" You nod vigorously, landing a messy *smeck* just off center of those kiss-bruised lips. There is not a better way to spend a day, you don't think. He chuckles and dodges your attempts to make the kiss deeper. "Aradia said, that I could take you home, when we were ready?" He looks away with a dusky blush, biting the bottom half of those red troublemakers, before looking back up hopeful-like. Boner alert. Pfff. Like you didn't already have one.

Carefully shifting your hips away from his, you lay a peck on his nose. He ain't needing to be knowing the strain in your pants none,"Fuck yes, motherfucker." But...you came here on the train. "How are we getting home? Not that I'm minding a train ride with a brother, just, ah..." Wow you don't want to talk about the carnival tent in your pants out loud.

He grins wickedly as he presses his body to yours. You really hope he doesn't...oop. Yeah. Your eyes imitate saucers like it's their job as you bite back a porno groan. That's a motherfucker getting his grind on purposeful like, squeezing up on your backside none too subtle. He keeps it up, rolling his hips against yours like it ain't even a thing,"I ah, had to rent a truck today, since Karkat couldn't get Eridan to let us borrow his car." Karkat?

Your face squishes up in question, though you ain't really wanting to think too much right now. He answers without you having to voice it. You wouldn't trust that rusty noise maker not to crack anyhows. "He helped me set up my dorm room today, when I got back." A hand finds its way to the back of your head, turning it just so, so's he can get his whisper thoughts out to you, "It's a single." Your toes curl in your shoes involuntarily. You love your platonic life-bro five ever, for motherfucking real.

...Allright, you might have spent another ten or so minutes macking on your Tavbro before you finally got the gumption to get your move on. You leave your piercing apron on, coz...yeah. Don't need to offend the eyes of the innocent. Aradia smiles sweet and knowing all at you as Tavros pushes you out of the door, calling after the both of you to "Have fun! Use protection!" Motherfuck you're like to die when she says that. Wearing facepaint has it's benefits. Tavros snickers and waves as the doorbell rings announcing your absconding the fuck outie.

He switches from pushing to pulling, square fingers laced firmly with your own slender ones. The gloom outside hasn't really all that much lifted, though what all is stirring on your insides is a good bit happier. Tav leads you over to an ugly as sin orange and white U-haul rental beater truck. Unlocking the door, he pulls it open with a flourish and bows, "Your chariot awaits, good sir!"

Your words finally come back from their hiding place as you sass him, accepting his hand up into the cab, "Ooh Mister Tavros, Ohh! I do motherfucking declare!" He titters chipmunk-ways and slaps you on the ass before running around the truck to leap up easy peasy into the driver's seat. Fucking tall people.

He hands you a trucker hat as he dons his own, smile like to dust the most cloudiest of days. "We should, look the part, if we are going to drive this ugly beast, right?"

Grinning easy as breathing, you shoot back, "Hell yes, man. Motherfucking sexy truck drivers is what we is." Tav rolls his eyes and starts the truck. Jesusween it sounds like dying animals. A text buzzes your pocket, and you fish out your phone to see a wall of grey. Your lip quirks in the corner as you read the message from your best friend.

"DEAR TURD-BURGLER: GAMZEE, I SWEAR TO FUCK IF YOU COME HOME WITH A SAD CLOWN FACE AFTER ALL OF THE HEAVY LIFTING I DID FOR YOU TODAY, I WILL PISS ON EVERYTHING YOU LOVE. EVERYTHING. THAT SAID, BE SAFE, OKAY? JUST BE HONEST WITH HIS INSIPID HEARTS AND FLOWERS SHOOTING ASS. NO. I DO NOT WANT TO THINK OF HIS ASS. OR YOUR ASS. OR THE LACK THEREOF, ON YOUR PART. OH GOD WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME. LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE, YOU MASSIVE PILE OF DICKSTINK. I'M THINKING ABOUT BUTTS. I CURSE YOU TO THE DEEPEST BOWELS OF HELL, GAMZEE MAKARA. MAY SATAN MAUL YOU WITH HIS MANY MOUTHS. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I TALKING ABOUT?" Motherfucker must have hit the green today. Tavros looks over at you quizzically as you laugh.

You only have to say one word, "Karkat." before he joins in.

Another buzz, another message. "COCK MONGLER. BEFORE I SMOKE THE REST OF THIS BOWL AND FORGET WHAT MY FACE FEELS LIKE: GO GET YOUR MEDICINE! I DON'T CARE IF TAVROS IS SITTING *ON * YOUR DICK WHEN YOU DO IT, BUT GET TO THE CENTER TODAY AND PICK IT UP, ASAP!"

You flip your screen open wise and text back feverishly, "ShIt, BrOtHeR, tHaT's AlL kInDs Of NaStY. wOuLdN't Do To TrEaT a FiNe AsS bRoThEr To SuCh LeWdItIeS. gOtTa RoMaNcE a MoThErFuCkEr, YeAh? ;oD! AnD sUrE aS sUnShInE i'Ma GeT mY mEdS. pRoMiSe."

Karkat messages you back with something less than coherent, but you get the idea. Medicine. Get. It. Problem all to be had is explaining on to your bestest brother. Boyfriend? You mean, he motherfucking knows, but...seeing confirmation on the hardcore crazy bouncing between your ears and slamming against the walls... Shit can't be tending to inspire feelings romantic.

The hulking monstrosity wheezes and clangs it's way down the highway, Tavros happily humming Lonely Island and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Glancing sideways, you scratch behind your neck and work up a worry. Maybe you can pick it up tomorrow, no harm or foul. He don't need to see the place where they pick apart your brainmeats. Judge you. Look at you all down nosed, hate you for being a worthless waste of- Fucking... shit. Stop, motherfucker. You stare down at the phone clutched in your hands, reading over Karkat's words to calm yourself. Deep breaths, brother. Calm down your clown titties.

Tavros pokes your side teasingly, "Does kissing, really make you this quiet? Maybe I should, do it more often!" Your lip juts as you give him a showing of your favorite fingers instead of answering. He snatches one hand out of the air and pulls, "Come on, Gamzee! Scoot over! I've heard bench seats, are really great, for cuddles." Motherfucker cheats like the devil, pouting like that. As if you could say no.

"Sure, brother." Your terse reply knits his brows in worry, even as you slide over and burrow yourself into his side. Waiting till tomorrow isn't gonna be a thing. You can't be laying out harshness like this, shit ain't cool.

His arm floats down around your shoulders with a squeeze, kneading into the tense meat of your bicep. What little there is, anyhow. Do what your platonic life brother told you. Turning your face so your nose fits against his shoulder, you look up and ask, " Hey, Tavbro? "

Sunbeams break past the dimming mist as they head down towards the horizon in sunset, lighting up an already cheerful smile pointed your way. "Yeah, Gamzee? What's up?" He fiddles with the collar on your shirt, brows piqued in interest in whatever you have to say. It's hard to look at him. You might as well be burning out your eyes doing a fool-ass staring contest with the sun.

Fuck you never want to talk about this with him. Ever. Make this shit like a band-aid. Rip it off. You screw down your lid-shutters and blurt out your request, "Can we stop by the Center so's I can pick up something?" You wince under the weight of his gaze and wait with eyes still closed.

Quick fingers tip the ugly trucker hat off your dome. Tavros brushes his lips on the crown of your head and hugs you closer. "Sure, Gamzee! Karkat said you had, to pick something up today! I just kinda got, um, distracted? " You sag into him, relieved. He chuckles remorsefully, "Sorry, Gamz! What exit do I have to get off at?"

Nosing up to his neck, you whisper directions into his skin in revenge. Motherfucker coulda said something earlier. The goose pimples on his arms don't escape your sharp notice. "You'll be wanting to _get off '_bout three exits down, and follow that shit till you see a big-ass hospital. You can drop my ass off at the second entrance." He squeaks agreement, and you smile big like the Messiahs you done painted the walls with at home. Threading your fingers through the paw what hangs off your shoulder in wanting, you turn an ear to listen to Tav's thundering heartbeat the rest of the ride. A smug smile may be dancing round your kisser. Best music you ever did hear.

The ride ends all too soon, in your estimation, as Tavros stops at the second entrance as you had requested. As you scoot back across the bench seat, he leaps out, quick as a bunny, and makes it to your door just as your fingers hit the handle.

He snaps it open with a professional bow and a hand ready to help you down. Motherfucker is laying this shit on thickways. "Motherfuck, Tav. Feeling like I live" you graciously accept the hand down, "on Butler island right now!" He chuffs and closes the truck door, somehow managing to brush against you as he does so.

Brother's making your skin burn with blood all near the surface. He keeps up his monologue as he locks up the truck. All right, then, fuck the police. "I'd be the best butler, you've ever had. People would be begging, for my services." He catches up to you, spinning you around to plant a quick kiss on your nose. "Too bad for them, I'm only interested in servicing you!" Holy fuck you love your motherfucking facepaint right now. That smile might be the mark of your march off this mortal coil.

In a split of a second, he's all to be serious. "Do you, ah, want me to come in with you? I don't mind, waiting in the truck, if you like." Eyes get to their sidling sideways as you run a hand through your hair. He ain't the kind to be getting his judgment on, and you've got some serious love for the brother, but. That's a lot of trust to throw down.

Tav tips your head so's your gander bulbs get a lock on his. "It's totally cool, either way, Gamz." Grins that honest could sell biscuits to a motherfucker what hates gluten. You'll be fine, bro, let a motherfucker in. A thumbstroke against your chinny chin chin does you in.

Swallowing, you grab the hand holding your chin and squeeze. "Com'on, my wicked brother. I ain't about to let my nugget waifu be all alone wise round here. What if someone tried to abscond with my bestest of brothers?" You sling an arm through his companionable and start walking up the pathway. It's cool, Gamzee. Be motherfucking cool.

Mock horror paints Tavros' features, "Whatever would we do, Mr. Makara! You would have, to fight for my honor!"

The door is getting closer. Keep up your front. You paste a smirk on and respond, "Hells yea I'd fight any motherfucker for your fine ass. Be waking up the harsh in me real quick to get my protection on, brother."

Either he knows you're not totally comfortable with this or he's being a goofy motherfucker. "Oh, my hero! I would have to drop a token of my thanks, and possibly swoon into your manly arms!" Pff. He sneaks a tickle under your ribs as your palm hits the door, and you finally give in and chuckle.

Tav's eyes go eighteen-wheeler tire huge as you guys hit the atrium. "Wow, Gamzee! I can't believe the glasswork they have in the ceiling!" What? He points, and you oblige. Oh. Skylights, yeah. Course he'd be excited about that. He rattles off what each support is, and how it works, and you're kinda glad he's more focused on that than what it is you're here for.

The nurse's station ain't too far from the doors, thank your motherfucking stars. Even better, the chill as fuck head nurse is on. She greets you with a warm smile, "Hello, Gamzee! Who's your friend?" You try to open your mouth, but Tavbro beats you to it.

Waving toddler-style, he introduces himself, "Hi," He squints at the nurse's name tag, "Ms. Sarah! I'm Tavros, Gamzee's boyfriend!" Urk. Wha? Er. You choke on your own spit and try to remember how to breathe. Well. That puts a motherfucking sticker on things. Boyfriend. The word does funny things to your internals, making em go sideways.

Sarah hums indulgently, snarky eyebrow raised. "Is that so, Gamzee? Good for you, sugar-pea! I'll go get what you need." You glance over at Tav, who beams out a monster of a shit-eating grin. You wonder if he meant it, or if he was just fucking around. Sarah comes back before you can ask, sliding a sign-off clipboard under the glass, "Just sign there, and you're ready to go, pumpkin!" You sign, trading the board for the baggie what contains the rattle-makers that quiet the noise up in you.

Spinning on your heel, you can't stuff the bag in your pocket speedful enough. Tav's gone all quiet next to you, furrows digging deep in his forehead. Motherfuck. He said boyfriend, is he having second thoughts since seeing as to how crazy you all is? You don't know what to say, how to break in to see what has his worry nodes all lit up. You ain't a x ray technician, shit.

Boyfriend, he said it. You was thinkin it. Tav winds and arm around your middle when the door to the center whooshes shut behind the pair of you. Boyfriend. Is that really what all he's wanting? You're like to die of joy on account of it, but...you don't know if you deserve it none. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. Rolls off your mental tongue real nice. Sparks up hope.

You're so motherfucking lost in thought you don't say a word the whole walk back to the truck. He stops, forcing the end of all your forward locomotions, "Gamzee?" Shifting out of your headspace, you take a gander at your Tavbro's visage.

Anxiety done broke out it's marker and writ all over your brother's face. "Did I, embarrass you? I mean, ah, if that wasn't, you know, a thing you wanted..." He pulls away, hands up. Shit. No.

You follow his backward movement, chasing his footfall till he's backed up against his rented sin against automobiles. Painful shame and discomfort twist up his features something awful. Standing toe to toe, you poke him right in his middle and tickle. In spite of himself, he wiggles and giggles under your touch. Good. "Brother, ain't no embarrassment up in my blood-pusher none."

Tavros grabs both of your wrists to stop your assault, pulling you close. "No? Then why, have you been, so quiet? I came home with full expectation, of an epic rap battle, that will ring throughout the ages! Legends should be born, on this day, so that children may listen wide-eyed, to the story of brave bards spitting out sick fires!" You raise up an eyebrow. This ain't all to what he's getting at. Say it, motherfucker.

He knows his jig is up, biting a lip and looking down at you. "Maybe, those selfsame bards, can, ah, make out a little? And be boyfriends?" Shit, isn't that the cutest motherfucker ever asking you out? You're right about to imitate a pile a mushy goo.

Eloquence ain't your name. "Fuck yes, motherfucker. I'm all to be down with that righteous noise. I'ma make a proper gentleman out of your ass, after you be whippin me 'round with all of your sass, but brother be sure, this here motherfucker is gonna take you to task!" Tav's grin gets any bigger, it might just break his face.

The ride back to his dorm is a hella lot less quiet. Sick rhymes and strict beats abound in the cab of the truck and you both howl out lines from Mickey Avalon in unison, 'P.S. We got dicks like Jesus!' before collapsing in laughter. Tav swerves a tidbit, scaring the shit out of a soccer mom before pulling back into his lane. "Oh god, Gamzee!' He swipes tears from his eyes and shakes in chuckles silent, "I think, our dicks, have had enough praise, for the moment." Not to your thinking, you'd be happy to pour praise on it all night. Tav looks at you askance, before bursting into mirth anew. Oop. Er. Dammit. You said that out loud.

Tavbro takes it in stride, slapping the shit out of your arm. You don't dodge, taking it with a dirty grin. "I'm sure you would, Gamzee. But maybe some dinner, first? I need to be, wined and dined, before I can be impaled by pine!" Wow. Uh. Heh. Suddenly the road out in front of the truck is very interesting. So are thoughts about the coldest of showers. Fucking sub-arctic tundra cold.

You blurt before the silence gets awkward, "So, my Tavbro, to whichall place does your heart desire to be eating?" Smooth, motherfucker. You internally facepalm.

Tavros hums for a moment, considering. "I, ah. Well, I was thinking, along the lines of, pizza and beer? And maybe watching some bad movies?" He looks over to you for confirmation or denial of his requesting. Shit. A night alone with your...boyfriend. You ain't never been all out alone with a motherfucker, yet. But he looks all shy and hopeful and you just want to...reach out and take everything he's ready to give. Then give back more than he'd ever be wanting. Fuck. You're near to choking on the warm fuzzies you got for a motherfucker.

You swallow back all the sappy things what make a wanting to come out of your wind tunnel of a mouth. Say something appropriate for once in your life, motherfuck! "Sounds like a plan, my bestest bro. Shoot me some digits and we'll have this cheesy noise punched up quicklike." He rattles off the number to the place nearest campus like he's done it a thousand times.

You promise yourself keep that in mind. Can't be healthy for a bro to be that intimate in the knowledge of dough, sauce and cheese. Studying his profile, it makes it so you want to be bringing him care packages week-wise. Coz you do. Care. A lot. Wouldn't do for a wicked smart brother to get all unhealthy on account a crappy dorm food. He agrees to pineapple pizza and the cheapest beer the place has. Thank god for liquor licenses.

Tav has you hide the twelve-pack in a duffel bag he brought special for the occasion as he signs you up for a guest pass in the dorms. The R.A. looks you over with a less than friendly glare. You just grin your widest and wiggle your fingers in hello. Ain't no motherfuckers raining on your parade, not when you've got pizza and sloppy makeouts on your think-maker. She huffs and looks away, printing you out an id and handing it over. She chides your sexy brother, could see frost coming out of that bitch's mouth if you tried, "Remember, Tavros, curfew is 12 am."

You smile wider, turning to pout at Tavbro, "Aw. No 'just touched a butt strut' tomorrow morn?! Motherfucking lame." Her face is priceless as two of you wave goodbye.

When you're on the elevator up to his room is when shit gets real for you. After the hysterical laughter dies down, Tavros creeps closer and closer, eventually grabbing your hand all shy. All sudden wise your heart near wants to jump out your chest. You want to say *something * but you ain't got the knowing on what. You're totally alone. With Tavros. Ain't no Karbro, no Eridan, no nobody to act as a buffer. To be quiet for. It scares the shit out of you. The elevator dings mercy, letting you both off on his floor.

He strides ahead easy, calling over his shoulder, "Come on, butt-toucher, I'm at the end of the hallway!" His tease is all you need to break out of your nerve thoughts. That little motherfucker!

Tav's walk comes to being a full out run when you holler back, "Oh brother, you ain't knowing what all you just brought down on yourself! I'ma touch it, bro." You pick up speed, closing in on your muscled target with outstretched grabby hands, "I'ma touch that butt but good! Full out get my grope on, Tav, just you motherfucking wait." No really, wait! Motherfuck. Brother's got legs ten miles long, your ass ain't catching up to him any time soon.

Tavros breaks away from you like it ain't nothing, motherfucker all running with the bulls and shit. Aight, maybe running ain't your thing. So what. He's at his door, panting and laughing by the time you finally catch up. He clicks the door open, bowing and ushering you in first, "Please, sir, the bearer of beer has the pleasure of entering first!" That sounds motherfucking dirty as hell. Sneak-ways you peek over your shoulder, and sure as pigeon crap on a brand new car, he's wagging his eyebrows.

Strutting in all regal, you survey your surroundings imperiously, "I'ma have to take you up on that, Tavbro. Right up prima nocte in this bitch." You ignore the fact he's goggling at you and your use of Latin. Come on, brother, just cuz you ain't gone to college do it mean that you're dumber than rocks at the bottom of a fish tank. Shit. Talk this way on purpose what to confuse the fuck out of people. And it reminds you of your dad. So. Yeah. Turning inquisitory, you ask, "Where you keep your fridge, brother? Warm beer ain't good for nobody."

He gestures over to a semi-dark corner, and as you approach, you hear the familiar rattling hum of a mini-fridge. Upon closer inspection, old as fuck mini fridge. Motherfucker looks like Hong Kong Phooey done straight kicked it out the seventies and into your Tavbro's room. Even has a Scooby Doo sticker on it, all faded.

Cracking that bad boy open and stashing your refreshment, it takes you by surprise to see a sixer of Redpop all snug and cozy inside. "Yo, bro, when did you start drinking the 'Go?"

Tavbro's head snaps up fore he looks away and scruffs the back of his messy 'hawk. You don't hear his answer right proper when he says it the first time. You ask him to double it up, repeat and sound. "Oh, uh. I don't, but I remembered that you did? Could you grab me a water?" Sweetest motherfucker ever to live and breathe.

"Certainly, my fine brother." You grab a water out of the side-door and snap off an elixir for yourself. Blegh. Pizza and water. Whatever works for folks, you guess. You remember to snatch your pills and swallow 'em dry before going back over to the couch. Don't need no accidents or nothin. You hope a full bottle of 'pop will wash away that shitty taste.

Halfway into the twelve-pack and a full pizza down, the both of you are up and snuggled on the couch, nice cozy blanket wrapping you up tight. The Iron Giant plays second fiddle to your attentions in this snugglefest. Right where the part your big metal bro is talking all, 'Not Gun' and shit, Tav is tearing up like motherfuck. Lips pouted and everything. It's pretty adorable, iffen you say so. Struggling out of the cocoon long enough to put your beer down, you turn around to spy a sheepish smile. "Uh, sorry." He tries to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand, but you're quick to stop him.

You hold his wrists gently with one hand as you snuggle back into the blankets with him. It takes some doing to get situated right, but you manage. Stroking a thumb across his cheek, you husk, "Nothin to be sorry about, Tavbro. You're a beautiful motherfucker what can show his feelings proper. Brave as fuck." You kiss each cheek, tracing the tear-tracks lovingly, maybe sneaking a little tongue coz you are a curious little shit. You finish by kissing him right on the tip of his button-nose. "Best motherfucker on the planet." He snorts and pecks on you the lips, fore pushing you down and using you like a pillow.

He's quick to cuddle up like a tired toddler, resting a head on your shoulder and sniffling. "Thanks, Gamz." Motherfuck this brother is adorable. It crosses your mind to call him Ferdinand. Not that you'd say that out loud. But now you've got yourself in a bit of a debacle. While you're happy to let him snuggle to his heart's content, there's an issue of a brother being *on top * of you. Which ain't a thing, per se, but, ah, when he moves... Yeah. That's a problem. The little clown downstair wants to up and do a no pants dance. The movie rolls on, and you ain't specifically paying attention.

No. Nonononono. You cannot be popping boners on your first motherfucking date. Well, you already did, earlier, but, fuck, that was the heat of the moment. Or some other stupid shit. You think about dead possums in the road. Cold Showers. Tavros moaning your name. FUCK! Tav hums and shifts against you, nosing into your collarbone. Think baseball. Balls. Bats. Guys in tight spandex. Goddammit. You stare at the ceiling like it has answers to the universe. Maybe just answers to making inconvenient as fuck hard-ons go away. That would be nice. The final scene in the movie starts to play out, big metal bro up and sacrificing himself like Superman for some motherfuckers.

Big wet tears hit your shirt, and you can't help but to get a lip quirk on. It's cute, and makes you forget about things further down. You smooth your fingers through his hair, murmuring at the top of his skull, " 'S all right, Tav. He'll be the big hero, 'n then he'll get himself back together. He ain't no Humpty Dumpty. Smart ass computer, he is." He sighs under your ministrations, nuzzling against you.

He hums and pushes against your neck, hiding himself, you guess. "I know, I just...I always get like this at the sad part of a movie. You probably think I'm dumb." His voice vibrates against your skin something nice. Feels like...home or something. You can't put your finger on it. Don't want to. Not right now. The heat and weight of him is starting to make you feel sleepy.

Ruffling his hair, you reply, "Nah, bro. Like I said earlier, you're a good motherfucker. Up and feeling what you feel and ain't afraid to. Shit's awesome."

Giant hazel moons peep over your chin with raised brows. When he talks, his head bobs up and down with the movement of his mouth. "You really, think so?" There's degrees some in vulnerability in that interrogative. His septum piercing is warm against your chin, slightly uneven breath playing over your lips.

You pluck his nose and reassure him, "Hells yes, my main motherfucker. I'm all kindsa legit on this." He props himself up a little, scooting forward till the both of you are nose-to-nose. Makes the wee man at the bottom of the happy trail jump around some. Down, boy.

Strands of his hair fall into your face as he gets his study of you, as iffen he's deciding on something or other. Feels like he's boring into you with those bright eyes, the weight of their gaze make you want to shrink back before he can get his gander on all that's up and broken in you. He speaks, gentle and low, "Gamzee?" You finally make eye contact, question plain in your features. "Can we, um, you know. Kiss? Or something?" Motherfuck this brother is gonna give you the diabeetus.

You tease him, puckering up and wagging your brows all impudent, "Didn't ask before, brother."

Fuck. Shouldn'ta said that. He goes all faraway on you, staring somewheres that ain't right with you. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I just think, um, permission is important?" Okay. That's something to get your talking on at some point. As of now, your brother needs comfort physical.

You slide fingers to the nape of his neck, pressing and guiding. You breathe out assent, "Then yes, motherfucker. Thousand times yes." It tickles your funny bone some to be quoting Jane Austen. Karkat would be so proud. His lips crush against yours like velvet, yielding and soft.

Tavbro is much the more tentative than he was previous, only brushing his pucker-makers against yours, not demanding. You're not entirely certain what to do with that. Should you deepen the kiss? Leave it as is? Shit. It's like, your first date, you don't want to go shoving your tongue down his throat and traumatize your best bro. Has he ever even been with a dude before? Fuck. You should have asked that. Tav isn't letting up any time soon, so's your gonna have to make your asking on the subject later.

Just let him set his own pace, you guess. You make content with taking what he gives, not pushing for more, even though the worst of animals in you wants to. The kisses are rhythmic, hypnotizing. Like he's whispering words against your skin without saying anything. He moans when you start rubbing at the nape of his neck with gentle pressure, teasing out the stress and worry that's all in his bones.

Shit, brother needs a rubdown in the worst of ways. You keep working, tracking your fingertips down into the meat of his shoulders and pressing hard. Kinda hard to be working your brothers knots out when he's making mess of your lips, but you manage. He groans again, snap-rolling his hips against yours when you hit a spot under his 'blade, sucking your lip into his mouth and dragging his teeth against it. Fuck if that ain't trouble. Sends a jolt to all the places you don't want to be thinking on, leastways not for a first date.

Somewhere around panting whimpers and a motherfucker nipping at your neck is when you finally give up on getting a brother to relax. Your hands don't much know what to do without a mission, wandering aimlessly till they settle for clasping round his middle. Tav bites down hard at the juncture of your neck, licking and sucking till all you can say are cusses 'FUCK!' and a butchered version of his name 'Tav, Tav, Tavbro!' He claims your lips again, licking at the crease in a beg for entrance. You're the happiest motherfucker alive to let him.

Confidence is an awesome thing. Tav starts pushing back, asking for more with light touch, cupping your head and tilting to get better access. His tongue dances with yours, sweet and soft, a meet-up of old friends. Or some sappy bullshit like that. Every time you come up for breath, the pair of you lock eyes and grin mischievous through the harsh breath. You like the fact he's got paint on him. Looks good.

Each kiss is easier, less hurried. You figure out he likes it when you trace over his lips all teasy with your tongue, so's he can capture it in his teeth and suck you in. Sets a body to shivering with need, that does. He catches on you like it when he drags his teeth round the bottom of your lip, pressed-down nuff to make it tingle. The pair of you trade on secrets what don't get told but by movement for what seems like hours, low curses and groans the music of physical barter. You're glad to say you both get gold stars for being ace students.

Eventually you're up to noticing his hands got their wander on, tracing design over your shirt where your nips are, teasing over the piercings. Hips get bucking when he bears down in a pinch, his mouth greedily taking in the whine that escapes you. Pulling back just enough to speak, your sexiest of motherfuckers husks all at you, "Sensitive?"

You fight through the clouds of lust fogging up your thinker to huff back, "Yeah. Kinda why I pierced em. Funner to play with." That's all kinds of grabbing a motherfucker's attention.

He's close enough to see his irises are all blown the fuck out in want, " Them?" Ain't that what you just-ooh. Oh fuck. Tav teases both, rubbing, tugging, and rolling the bars between his fingers, murmuring into the skin of your neck, "Fun to play with, like, you...play with them? Yourself?" He licks a stripe up to your ear, "Do you, um, touch them when you're...?" You can feel his skin flush for the end of that question he ain't finishing.

It's all you can do to give a barest of nods while you concentrate on *not blowing your load * from him teasing you with his hips and hands on your nips. Least you can still rhyme, in your head. Control over the noises what pour out of your mouth were a lost cause awhile ago. You just hope the neighbors are some understanding motherfuckers. Maybe you'll bake them cupcakes to apologize. ^Special^ cupcakes.

You stop thinking when one hand finds the front of your pants and gives an experimental rub. Or at least you try. FUUUUCCCKKK. It feels soooo good to be touched, be motherfucking wanted like that. Tavros straight up palms you, base to tip, grinding down with the heel of his palm when he hits your head, and you're like to cry out louder if it weren't for him swallowing up your sound with a rough kiss. It's a delicious kind a murder. He keeps it up, working you over till you're just a writhing mess of syllabants and tense heat coiling up ready to pop.

You love it, you love him doing this, but...fuck. Something's off. It niggles at your brainpain, holding you back from release. Like that fucker Peter's telling you no at the Gates, gives a body some mighty strong frustration. Tavbro weren't this forward before. Not that you ain't enjoying it, but. Goddamn buts.

Talking when a motherfucker is mouthing at your earlobe, growling, and pressing a hand to your dick ain't easy by a long shot. At some point, he done shifted the two of you so he's snuggled deep into the couch, you all up longways against him. Every time his hand moves against your cock, you can feel the outline of his need right up against your ass. MOTHERFUCK do you want to come. He whispers breathy in your ear, "Does this, feel good?" His other hand wiggles up from your hip, cupping and rolling your balls as he strokes harder. The words get garbled between your brain and your sound-maker, 'Nrgrhmm'. You can feel him smirking against your skin, nipping the back of your neck and all-out begging you, mewling, "Come for me?" Fuck. FUCK. You bite your lip as hard as you can.

Nononononono. Bad Gamzee. This ain't Mt. St. Helena and you ain't blowing your top. Dead puppies. Abuelita farts. Naked ninety year olds. Tio Mundo in his stupid spandex swimsuit. Sweaty starey Mccreepy that gawks at your ass when you go to the doughnut shop. Okay.

Okay. You can do this, even if every time his one of his hands move you're near want to die. Not about to trip fall over the edge, there's some words what need to be spoken. Fuck he feels so good. And he's getting creative, doing something twisty and oh fuck. Your head tips forward and you really, really want to scream. And come. But. Motherfucking BUT. You swear to the messiahs you're never using that word again.

Grabbing Tav's hand and concentrating real hard on forks spearing eyeballs, you huff out, "Bro. Tav. Bestest Brother. Gotta stop." He freezes mid-stroke, hands flying away like scared sparrows. If your dick had a brain, it would hate you. A muted snuffle floats its way to your hear-ducts. This ain't gonna be fun.

You hop and shimmy till you're facing your boyfriend. Still weird to say it. Mentally. His eyes are squeezed down tight-shut. "Yo brother." Nothin. Not a motherfucking peep. "Tav." Nada. "Tavbro." Nien kliene glucklich. "Tavros." Your sweet brother shrinks into himself. Shit, he goes any further into the couch it's gonna eat him. Feed me, Seymour. The fuck is it with you and the seventies right now.

Focus, motherfucker. Cupping a hand to each side of that perfect mix of russet-and-freckled face, you intone with all the serious in you, "Hey, bro. We got some words what need flapping at each other, yeah? Com'on. I don't bite, my main motherfucker." You pause for a beat, considering, "Less you want me to, course." He finally cracks a grin, hazel slivers peek out from dark fringe.

His voice is a shitbit hoarse when he gets to talking. "I think, it was I, who was doing the biting." A smirk teases round his lip as he leans closer for a kiss.

You hate yourself moving back-ways, even more when he looks crestfallen. "That you did motherfucker. I gots some questions, if you ain't adverse to answering?"

His lids fall shut again, puffing out air what's defeated. In a small voice, he replies, "Yes."

Um. "Yes, you ain't adverse? Or yes, you are?"

You can trace the roll of his eye through his eyelid. Shit like that makes you uncomfortable, like you done something wrong. "Yes, I'll answer."

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Note: Thanks runswithwolves! I'm glad you enjoyed it! (And I knooowwwww. I just heard jsntp is getting ready to update in the near future! Yay!)

Note: Thanks, :D anon! I'm glad my magical smut powers appease you! (and justsaynotopants has a tomblr, if you want to check it out!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Perfect, 2/2**

Set in the **Stab Bruno Mars Universe, **by Justsaynotopants. 3!

Thanks to Cork and Zee for suggestions and support! Much lub, homies! 3

**NSFW**. Eventually. Gird your virgin eyes/loins.

**A/N:** Fucking finally. Gamzee and Tavros are huge awkward dorks. I love them. So much. But writing their conversations, and having to listen to them talk in your head. Omg. *ARG GETS FRUSTRATED AND THROWS AT INTERNET : [*

**Fun fact/shameful confession**: I actually listened to the eponymous (omfg an excuse to use that worrrddd) band while writing this. This song popped up on Pandora, and I heard **miracles**, and then I was like, ooh, relevant to my interests, and then I saw the band name, *cackled*, downloaded it, and put it on repeat.

**Actual song list**: (If you're curious) _Locked out of Heaven_: Bruno Mars, _Make Love_: Daft Punk,_Something About Us_: Daft Punk. _Any Other Name_: Thomas Newman. Bonub points if you can figure out which song was on repeat where in the story. (IDK, a smut fic of your choosing?)

* * *

Silence is something you're accustomed to. Something that can lay down ease in your bones what when it's the right kind. Like when Karbro holds you tight in the dark of the night, plays with your hair till the world tips back on it's axis. This lack of noisome, however, ain't all that relaxing.

Tavros won't even look at you, lids closed shut tighter 'n a bank's fist after foreclosing on a motherfucker. Ain't the best feeling in the world. Brother's got some serious unhappy that done emanates from his every motherfucking pore. He rolls up and away, scooting hisself to the other end of the couch. For a motherfucker what looks so big, he sure does scrunch up small when he's wanting to.

You take up the other end, scratching the back of your head and wondering on how to say to a motherfucker that won't emit a peep outside of the occasional snuffle. Tear tracks trace themselves anew on your Tavbro's face, and it breaks your motherfucking heart.

Words slip and slide out your gaping maw fore you have proper control of 'em. "Tavbro, I got to be getting my admittance on, I ain't all unhappy on the way our lovin was motherfucking unfolding, but, um. Being that we was in some hot-cold goings on, what with the sleepover, and the touching and then nothing at the nighttide, and now with the rubbing and pinching and pulling, which I motherfucking love like no else." Tavros slits open an eye, makes an ugly baby between a laugh and a cry. That stupid mouth a yourn ain't about to stop any time soon, running an off-track train in a bad action movie.

"But I'm all on the worry that iffen I let this shit go without some jabber-talk winding it's way out of my noise-maker we'll fuck this all up and I ain't wanting to do that none coz I got some songs in my heart for you motherfucker, and I'm just to be thinking maybe sommat is different from when you left and I'm really really nervous coz you ain't said nothin but sniffles and I'm getting all the anxiety climbing up and making comfortable on my insides and I kinda feel not to be not knowing what you're thinking and I'm sorry as motherfuck to be making this rowdy ruckus at you but I ain't got no other way of telling a motherfucker how it is all on my insides sides blabbing it out like a motherfucking schoolgirl what done up in those short skirts in them animes…" Tav outright snorts when you mention the animes, straight up hides his face behind his hands in mirthful woe.

It's a relief. You keep going, in hopes he'll get reciprocal soon, "So. Brother. What all I'm asking is iffen you're of the mind to be telling me what's gotten you the gumption to be all hot and heavy? Ain't like a motherfucker don't approve none, but it seems to being there's sommat off on the action, yeah?"

The question hangs in the air as Tavros considers your words, brow furrowed and unfurrowed, grin there and gone like a ninja. You squirm for a moment in awkward wait while he weighs and gathers his words.

He looks away. He always looks away when he's saying something that don't sit right. Shit. You don't even know a motherfucker all the way and you're knowing his tells. "I don't think, that we did anything, wrong." Orisons to lost gods and goddesses pour out from the neurons tween your ears. Least the tears of your near and dear done bottled themselves up.

You ain't entirely sure how to prompt a brother to get his truth-thought on. "All I'm saying is it were a motherfuck of a surprise when you up and got your kissing on. Again, this brother here ain't complaining none. But, like, have you even ever been with someone of the dudely persuasion?"

Tavros giggles at 'dudely persuasion,' and it eases up some of the worry in you. You try again, hoping your babble will eventually get him on to talking. "Or, you know, been with a fine ass motherfucker such like myself?" You wiggle your brow as Tav sounds a guffaw.

You let him laugh, the sweet sound of it working away the knots tied up in your belly. His voice is hoarse and breathy when he finally speaks, "Oh, shit, Gamzee…I can't, breathe!" He wipes away tears and chokes on giggles. You wait, let it play out. Pushing any more would lend to more quiet than you can stand.

He keeps his joyful sounds on the low, looking you over with puffy reds that you wish were from finest sneeze and not saline bombs. That skin you'd love to be in turns a darker shade when Tav speaks,"Actually, Gamz, I haven't been with, a guy before." Your inveterate brother does this cute thing where he scratches the back of his head when he's nervous, and you'd love to just up and pounce and hug the shit out of him for it. You refrain. Ms. Lalonde would be proud of you.

Tav studies the far wall like it's got a script writ in neon as he keeps his voice up in pitter-patter, "But, um. I think, that doesn't really matter?" You nod vigorous as a branch shaking in a windstorm. "Is that all, you were worried about?" Tavros' body-talk screams hopeful, '_can we just drop this?_' Deep down, you wish you could. Though it ain't a should, nor a would.

Easy or comfortable ain't the words to describe the conversate you're like to have. "Sure, brother, that's definitely some a the bootybother in me." He chuckles soft at your stupid pun. Progress in the righteous directive. You clear your throat, dare to make request. "Ain't the all and all, though. Been thinking that, ah."

He's all wide-eyed bunny right now, and you're a motherfucker with a cleaver. Shit. "Maybe, um. Something on the haps when you was away…that I don't got any know on, which done changed your 'pinion on things?" You pray to whatever deity that will listen that this ain't just about Tav getting his dick dirty.

It's subtle, how he gets stiff, then shaky. Iffen you weren't eyeing him hawk-like, you would have missed it. Brother's blinking fast 'nuff to be getting you thinking S.O.S, quaking apart bolt by bolt. You blurt out, "Bro? You aight?"

His head snaps up, eyes windows to the soul as they fucking be, showing all sorts of torn and broken. Strikes fear through you with the force of a nuke-blast. You try to take it back, retract, redact, but he cuts you off with a wave of his square hand, surprising you with his question in return. "What, are the pills for?" Deflection. It disappoints you, though it was something you been meaning to bring up anyhows.

It's your turn to go eye wide, bite your lip, and tremble like a motherfucker prostrate before Oz. ('Fore that cute as hell dog went behind the curtain, course.) You swallow, search for words what need speaking. Goddamn this silence down to its roots.

You rub cross your brow as the word comes out painful as cold needles, "Schizophrenia." Can't look at a motherfucker when he takes the time to consider the poison in you. All the wrong, the rent up little bits that don't fit together right. Think on how you don't belong with nobody coz of all the dangerous crazy what stews in you. Fiddling with the blanket you still got clutched in your hand, you wonder how long it would take you to bolt toward the door, call Karbro, and disappear in a pile of comfort and understanding.

A rude-ass foot nudges you out of your head, jostling your thigh. Voice all sortsa serious Tav mumbles, "Oh. Okay." Forcing your look-bulbs to make contact, you see relief hammered out in big letters all over your finest of motherfuckers. Okay. Now you're the brother what's confused some. He keeps his lip flap on, " I thought it was something, terminal. And I was pretty sad, about that." Sad? A little bit of the warm fuzzies creeps back into the heart that's busy galloping scared. "I thought, I wouldn't have, you know, a lot of time with you."

Oh. OH. Your ticker makes to stutter and start real quick. Suns ain't got shit on your smile. "Nah, motherfucker. You got me as long as you're wanting me." That shy grin you love to fucking bits comes back, turning his skin a darker shade of brown with a blush. You're near to bursting, though it makes you sick to think there's still more talk needed.

"Thank you, Gamzee. I appreciate that." He swings his legs off the couch, scooting a tidbit closer to you. It don't cover up none he's needing to look away from you when he says what all comes next. "And as, to the things…that happened over the summer." The shakes come back with fearsome strength, making your beloved brother curl in on himself for steadying. "I…ah. Its…"

Motherfuck. It's the only word to accurately describe the awful taking residence in the cavity 'neath your ribs. Scooting closer, your hand hovers over his shoulder. Does he want you to..? Should you? Indecision is a bitch, and you would like to slap it. Tavros makes the decision for you, rolling into your arm, reacting into your touch instinctive. He fists his hands into the back of your shirt, crushing himself to your chest, tears back in earnest.

Tavros treats the front of your shirt like a confessional, hurt pouring out of him in waterfall.

"She…and I. Fuck, Gamzee. I'm so fucking sorry, I never wanted to, but she made me, she always makes me, and I'm so fucking awful, and weak, and terrible, and I can never tell her no, because she'll never leave me alone, I can never make him stop, I can't protect them, I know I deserve it, but I'm such a fucking coward, I'm horrible, and shallow, and empty, and you should fucking run from me, as fast as you can and never look back, because I'll always end up hurting you, hurting myself, fucking…" Sobs choke off the rest of his sentence as the tremors that travel up your Tavbro's body take on new meaning. You don't know who 'she' or 'he' is. They are motherfucking lucky you don't. You hug tighter, trying to quiet the storms breaking up the peace in your bro.

He's mumbling broken, snot may or may not be getting on your shirt. You don't care, murmuring assurance and rubbing his shoulders as he keeps spitting out the broken pieces a glass stuck in his maw, "and she…just, forces me to…and I wished every time, it could have been you, I wanted it to be you so bad because…because." He hiccups and snorts, and it's pretty fucking cute, but you keep those 'pinions to yourself. Another quake tears him asunder, and you're near to ripping apart the skies for your brother on account of him being treated so.

You take a deep breath. No amount of rage bubbling up in you will help. Just got to accept what the fuck is and get on with patience. Tavros' time at confession is winding down as his breath slows, rubbing his mug deeper into your front-side as if to fuse the two together. You hang on to him like you're holding a delicate glass ornament. He finishes his thought on the low end of hearing, "I wanted it, to be you, because…I want to be with you." Any thought all else fades awful quick when he says that. The world stops for a short, sweet second when he peeps up at you through damp eyelashes.

You're Gamzee Makara, and the world is suddenly beautiful again. Cupping his face with the most infinite of cares, most reverent caress, you breathe over his pucker-maker 'fore crashing down on it, "Want to be with you too, Tavros." It's not poetic, ain't a serenade out in the rain. But it's perfect. A pair of odd-man-out puzzle pieces fitting together harmonious, chords what don't belong together normal making joyous sound. He's broken and bitter, and it fills you with silken, slack-faced awe.

Motherfucking granted, no amount of loving will ever fix the damage in the both of you what like it needs must be. It just. Makes things a little easier to bear. Something in you shines because of that, swells to burst in sweet cleansing flame. Consumes you as you consume him through touch and kiss, need burning you up from the inside out. This motherfucker just became your house of worship, and you intend to pray on the motherfucking through.

You decide it's your turn to be on top for a bit, you ain't no shitty lover. Shirts are shucked in a matter of seconds, and you gasp when skin touches skin. Brother's warmer than an oven, holy shit. Your bro looks up at you with nerves and lust, reaching up to tug on your shoulders, bring you closer. Tavros' words are soft, pleading, "Gamzee, I…?" He's all sortsa conflicted.

You brush away tear-stains, smooth worry-lines. "Don't worry none, bro. I got you. Ain't going farther than you're wanting. " He sags down into the couch, dragging you down with soft kisses that belong on the faces of saints. "You just let a motherfucker know when you need stopping, yeah?"

Tavros nods, pushing some of your unruly mess of hair behind an ear. Grabbing himself a handful of ass, he grins and murmurs, "Thanks, Gamz. I'll be sure, to let you know, when we need to hit the air-brakes, on this crazy train." You roll your eyes and dive for those lips you got craving for. He may or may not be humming the Ozzy Osbourne tune as you do so. You are definitely laughing.

Doesn't take long to get back to where you all had left off, and maybe a little further. You're cautious as all motherfuck, taking care to check on your bro's reactions 'fore you lift a finger in movement pleasurable. Tav gasps wordless when you give a harsh suck and nibble on a nipple, keens and writhes when you trace over his muscles with light pressure of nails. The both of you are down to your skivvies, and from what all you can tell, brother's got it going _on_ downstair.

You lick your lips a when you see it jump and move around some when you pinch a nub. Your shit is harder than calculus on account of knowing he quivers, wants, and moans all for you. Makes you greedy as fuck, leaning down to capture whines with sucking kisses, mapping his arching chest with eyes wide in wonder, grinding down hard so's you're fit to bust. His eyes flutter shut as you suckle hickies down his chest, his warm, calloused hands pushing and pulling like he can't decide what direction he wants you to go.

The path of destruction pauses when you get to his waistband. You hum and nuzzle along the elastic line that separates you from the thing that makes you wanna cuss and shove away his hands so's you can ride away to oblivion on it. Tav hisses a moan above you, fingers curling in your hair. "Gamzee…" You freeze, looking up at your beloved bro. There's tears hiding round his eyes, so you make to back off.

But you're halted by his grip, which tightens almost to the point of pain, sending a throb to the beef truncheon something fierce. Ooh. Little controlling, then? Sessy. His hands guide you back up to his lips. "Gamzee, I, um." His lips are gentle, asking questions you're not too sure how to answer. You feel him fumbling with the front of your boxers like a nervous schoolgirl, and you try *really hard * not to smirk. "Shouldn't I, like…be helping you out?" His fingers are fucking magic. Helping. Yes. That's a thing.

You grin against the red troublemakers that done started this mess. "If you're wanting to be helping, sure, bro." Fire and ice skitter across your skin as he touches you. Your fingers skate under his tidies, give him a proper squeeze that sends him panting and arching. "But I'm just as happy as motherfuck to be giving and not take right now."

Tavros moans against your collarbone, "Fuck, Gamzee!" Sexiest thing you've ever heard in your life. "I," You give a teasing stroke, tight at the base and loosening as you go up, cuz you think it's cute as shit when he stutters. He's bucking and groaning, fumbling with the button on your boxers. (Why the hell did they put those there, really? Peeing in the dark is complicated enough.) When he finally gives up, pushing your boxers down to take you in hand, you groan in unison. Fuck. Yes.

Tav finally finishes his sentence in the moment you forget to breathe, "Jesus. Stop teasing me, you dick." You arch an eyebrow and chuckle. Greedy motherfucker. (Like you're any better.)

Though you're not to be rushing. You ask one more time, coz you are a caring sonofabitch, "Sure, bro?"

He grinds against your hand, voice all sorts of breathy and needy, "I swear to God, Gamzee, if you don't make me come I'm going to scream."

Your grin is bedevilment in it's finest. Twisting your wrist, you give him a pulsing squeeze up and over, "Whatever my finest motherfucker wants." His words are officially lost. You wave goodbye to them as they escape out the window. Pushing him down on the couch again, you wag your brows in promise of a good ass time.

Keeping a firm grip around the base of his cock, you suck with hollowed out cheeks till those breathy sighs come to screams and shivers. Tavros sure does act his motherfucking birthright, what with the way his hips are bucking up against your chin every time you push down deep enough to swallow. Tavros' litany of sound tries, and fails, to make words. It's adorable. "ff-ha! Moth-fu-got-da-Ga-pl-" Garbled Tavrosese is the best language, and you are a promising young scholar.

Pulling off, you blow cool air over his flushed tip. He's a sight, flushed dark skin slick with sweat, bright eyes blown till all you see are thin little rings a hazel, sex-drunk grin near to dripping off his chin. "Don't worry none, brother, gonna take care of you real good, aight?" Tavros nods, weakly trying to gesture you closer. Stepping just out of range, you stare at your backpack, deciding. There's some deep needs curling up on your insides what are demanding to be taken care of. But you're not knowing whether or not he'd be okay with them moves.

A soft hand sneaks up your thigh, grabbing itsself some of your non-ass. If ever there was a siren call, uneven as it may be, "Zee? Would you, want to…?" Brother has a way of not finishing questions in a way that answers your own. You smile like predators do.

There's fire in your gut and a throb in your groin as you bounce over to your bag."Hell yes, bro. Gimme a sec." Hands a quaking, you pull out the needfuls: lube, condoms, latex gloves. Yes. You are prepared. Boy-scouts taught you a lot. Don't mean you're not to feel a shade pervy when you turn back to Tav with hands full a fuck aides. A blush that ain't got nothin to do with how sexy you just was starts burning away under your paint.

Tav stares at the objects in your hands, then up at you. Then back down at the stuff in your hands, and maybe your junk. Decision makes itself clear when he leans back, jiggling his pecs at you. "So, are we going to, ah, play doctor? Or fuck?"

Scrubbing a hand over your chin to wipe off a wee grin of relief, you snark back, "Little of both, supposing."

He pulls you onto his knee with a hopeful look. Least he ain't intimidated. "That sounds like fun. Care to show me, Nurse Zee?"

Settling yourself over his thighs, you figure hands on instruction is the order of the day. "Sure nuff." Pouring out a ridiculous amount of lube on you palm, you watch his eyes trace your movements, memorizing your actions. Licking his lip in anticipation. You cup your other hand over the first, blowing into the closed space to heat up the liquid fun in your palm. When it don't feel like ice-chips no more (where the motherfuck do they get this stuff, the fucking frozen lake-center of hell?!), you capture the both of you in a nice firm squeeze that makes for synchronized jumping and moaning.

Handjobs are a shit bit easier with proper slick for the dick. Tav's head is lolled back on the couch, neck bared, and begging for release. Leaning forward, you nip and suck hickeys, wanting motherfuckers to know you been there. You're half tempted to pump the both of you into la-la land, but the snakes of lava deep in your center won't let you. "Bro. I'ma need some assistance on this next one, yeah?" He lifts his head, questions that won't come out in the shape of his expression.

Delivering a final, sharp bite to his collarbone, you kiss up to his ear and whisper, "Wanna fuck you, dude, but I'm needing some, um. Prep work, first." There's something luxurious in the way his skin prickles up all over, how his mouth falls open with surprise. You'd be happy to commit the image to memory, but a hand on your ass brings you back down to earth.

He's all aroused consternation, "Oh, I. I thought, maybe, since you were, doing all the work, that I should?" Sweet motherfucker. But no.

Hushing him with a little peck of a kiss and a sharp, speedy upthrust of your palm, "Naw, bro. I'ma bite the boner bullet on this 'un." Trying any else wouldn't end well, in your most humble of opinions. That shit can wait, and you kinda wanna sit on a dick tonight, anyhows. He tries to refuse, to convince you, but there ain't an ear on your head what wants to hear it. Shifting to the side and pulling him down on top of you, you kiss away worry till he listens, "It's aight. I'll show you, motherfucker. Calm your tatas."

After Tavros kisses you breathless, he sits up, looking apprehensive, though still eager. "So. What exactly do you need me, to do?" This. This is the awkward part.

Rolling your hips under his and licking your lips, you tease, "Welp. You was sayin you wanted to play doctor, brother. Feeling up to proctology?" He tries to stifle a snort, fails miserably.

He puts his hand around you, jerking tight and hard enough to make you see stars, "I think, I might be the very doctor, you need." You can't agree more. It might take you a few minutes fore you can string enough words together to get things moving along. Doctor Feelgood keeps playing in the back of your mind.

Stammers are fast becoming a time-honored form of communication. Tavros still hasn't stopped, working his 'revenge' on you something nice, so's your skin feels et up by skitterbugs set ablaze. "M-m-moth-ffff-ha-mmm-"

Smartass motherfucker gets you gasping with a pulsing grip, "Yeah, Gamzee? What do you need?" You howl when he speeds up, leaning over and growling dirty in your ear. "I thought, you wanted, to fuck me." Whining, you point over in the general direction of the lube and gloves. You hear the soft 'snap' of the glove being pulled on, 'snk' of the cap coming off, and a 'huff' of air you hope is him warming said lube the fuck up. He pauses long enough to shift back and down, nuzzling your dick and looking to you for direction. You mimic with your hands what you want him to do.

Which is a poor substitute for tutelage, you're finding. Whatever he's doing down there feels a lot more like a scavenger hunt than sexytimes. He used more than enough lube, but, motherFUCK his fingers are thick. Grabbing his wrist, you do your best not to laugh when his head jerks up all concentration and nerves, "Bro, hang on. Lemme…just…" Angling your hips, you roll down on the two fingers already in, savoring the steady burn and the strange feel of latex. It's always weird, feeling something blunt and foreign, but when you do it just right…fuck yes.

Your other hand got itself some sneakery, grabbing at your hair when you get him rubbing against the holler bump. Always makes you feel like ya need to pee, first, fore it dissipates into something much more fun. Tavros notices the difference right away, circling round your prostate with a face-splitter, "I take it, that feels good?" He thrusts his fingers experimental, slow, pushing against the jolly button on the in and out. Ain't miracles, but it works. Your dick jumps a little too excited, bumping against his hovering chin. You both giggle, and you thump him again purposeful. Wouldn't be too bad if…FUCK!

Wet heat and a swirling tongue have all of your attention right now. Jupiter could hit the planet right now and you would not give one fuck. All your fucks are currently being siphoned out of your dick. He eyes you as he works, taking cue as best as he can. Tavros ain't no god a head, but it's been so long you don't even care. There's a shitton of spit, maybe a little sting of teeth when he forgets, but goddamn. It's Tavros. He wants you, and he wants to make you feel good. And that's pretty much all that matters right now.

He manages to synch up each long pull of your funny whistle with an inward thrust on doubletime, and it's got you singing. You pant, cuss, and when you get closer to going toes up, beg. That, more than anything else, seems to fire him up good. "Bro-fuck, got-damn motherfuck wanna, JESUS, motherfucker fuck me fuck me fuckme!"

Tavros' hands and mouth are gone, but he don't give you much time to tie on upset. Tinfoil tearing, huffing into cupped hands, and a blunt nudging at the backdoor tells you what's coming next. He pushes in too fast, you arch and hiss with the sting. Forgivable mistake, ain't like you showed him. He seats home, and you raise up your hips. Before he starts to move, you clutch him still, make him wait. "Just a sec, Tav." Coaxing his knees under your back, you shift till your legs are draped over his shoulders.

He mumbles apologies into your calf, and you squeeze his neck gentle, get him to turn them seein orbs in your directional. "S'okay, brother. Chill. Ain't all gonna be like a porno th' first time."

Tav sighs and nuzzles the skin closest to his lips with a little chuckle, the sharp lines of anxious turning into something much softer, albeit impish. "So, eventually, it will be?" Your eyebrows imitate spastic caterpillars til he laughs.

Finally feeling relaxed enough, you push yourself flush (well, more than you already were), and tease, "Gonna get a move on anytime, cowboy?" His eyes go the deepest brown you've seen them yet, more twin wells than oculars. You realize you might just be in for the ride of your life.

Firm and gentle is the order of his hands cupping under your butt, the angle and pressure of his strokes inside you. The both of you huff and pant as he slowly picks up speed, checking and re-checking to make sure you're okay. Once you've got him angling up when he grinds in, you definitely are. Tav's words are breaking off in quiet ice-floes, "goddamn, Gamzee. You have, no idea, how much I've wanted…" He bites them off in a whimper when you clench down involuntary, goes faster.

The world is an earthquake and a tornado, and you're naught but a trailer done smack dab in the middle. Tavros is chanting your name as he jackhammers you, making everything blur and bounce. There's not a single syllable coming out of your mouth what makes sense, "hnng, mmm, fff, g, pl, shi-" He gets the idea, taking you in hand and working you off-tempo. Somewhere in your head you wonder if it's the sexual equivalent to the belly-rub/head pat trick. What the fuck. Focus. Fuck us. Yes.

Tavros isn't nailing your prostrate every time, but when he does, you feel like to die, screaming wordless and wanton to the ceiling. And mentally apologizing to the neighbors. Again. They are getting the finest brownies you can make. Tavros pulls short, thumbs your head from underneath, changes stroke pattern from deep to shallow so fast it makes your head spin. Your hands can't decide if they wanna pull out your hair, tear holes in the couch, or scratch down Tav's sides as he rips you apart from the inside out. So you try all of them, and let the earth fade from your thought-making. Groans, whispers, and crying out are the only things that anchor you to this side of existence.

When his hand starts pumping erratic on your cock you know he's close, and you dart a hand to the cellar to lend help. He coos when he feels your fingers entwine with his, and the both of you grip tight, make for lightspeed. Tension sings across your body, nigh piano-wire tight, tingling and bubbling right at the edge. Tavros dangles at the precipice with you, thighs shaking, flushed skin, calling at your attention what isn't really there, "Gam, Gamz, Gamzee!" Your eyes flutter open, see the man that made you this way, shook up mountain of muscle he is. Brother's just as wrecked as you, taking a pleadful beg, "Come for me?" This time you're more than happy to oblige, heat and pleasure surging through you, out of you, making you both full and empty at the same time. A gleeful paradox.

Tavros sags over you, spent up like a bad credit card. "Was, that, ah…good, en-" You kiss that blasphemous mouth quiet, give him a sun-flare bright grin. Every time he tries to ask if what he threw down was good enough, you repeat on the action. This here motherfucker, who's broke up on the insides just like you. Don't got nothin to worry or be sorry about.

You pull him close, ignore the sweat, jizz and lube rubbed up on the both of you, intone all brands of reassuring, "Shh. It was perfect."


End file.
